“Would you—would you mind writing down where that hall is?” asked the child.
“Certainly I will.” Mr. Reeves suited the action to the word, taking an envelope from his pocket for the purpose. “And if I ever see Mr. Evringham there”—he said slowly, “by the way, please tell your grandfather that we met and had this chat.”
“I don't know your name,” returned the child.
“Why, of course. Pardon me. Reeves. Mr. Reeves. Can you remember that?”
The little girl flashed a bright look at him. “We can't forget,” she reminded him.
“Of course,” he nodded. “Exactly. I'm very likely younger in Science than you are, little one. How long have you known about it?”
Jewel thought. “Seven years,” she replied.
Her companion gave a laughing exclamation. “There, you see. I've known for only one year. What is your name?”
“Jewel Evringham.”
“Good-bye, Jewel, till we meet again, some Sunday soon, I hope.”